


Light at the End of the Tunnel

by Calacious



Series: One Shot Season [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU: Ron and George are not brothers, Canonical Character Death, Kissing, M/M, No Sex, Prompt Fic, Recovery, Therapy, au: no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: In which Ron is severely injured in an accident that costs the life of his husband’s twin brother, Fred, and is having trouble coping, but he’s getting better now, with the aid of a therapy dog named, Hugo, and the help of his husband, George.





	Light at the End of the Tunnel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.
> 
> A/N: 913 words; written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry’s, Assignment #6, Psychology, extra credit task #13: write about someone seeking therapy. This is AU. Ron and George are not brothers and they are married. Fred died in a car accident that Ron survived. The switches in verb tense are intentional and not errors. I follow the Purdue Writing Lab rules for commas. I am sure I will have errors, regardless. I am trying to embrace imperfection and not want to kill myself over it, so please be kind.
> 
> Warning: Mentions a canon character death and mental health issues, but does not go into any detail; this is a ‘slice of life’ fic and does not delve into every detail, therefore there will be questions (that is intentional; I don’t believe in spelling everything out)

When George had first brought up the idea of therapy, Ron had tossed a vase at him. It had broken against the wall beside George’s head. Some of the withered flowers had stuck to the wall, the stagnant water keeping them there. He’d hated that vase. “Get Well,” the card that accompanied it had read. 

There’d been yelling, mostly from him, and Ron had shut himself in their bedroom, had kept George locked out for a day and a half. Ron thought, hoped, that George would leave him then, but his husband of six months had stayed, sleeping just outside the door.

“Survivor’s guilt,” the first therapist he’d visited, Dr. Dumbledore, had said. The man’s twinkling eyes and genial attitude made Ron want to bash his face in, no matter that he’d been right. Ron did feel guilty that he was alive and that Fred was not. It should have been him. 

“Not a good fit,” he’d muttered, angry, when George had asked him about the visit. 

They’d found another, and another, Ron kicking (metaphorically; he’d lost the use of his legs) and screaming the entire time, and finally they found one that he could stand. George had joked that it was a miracle and Ron wanted to slam a fist in his face, but he hadn’t. 

Dr. Granger had a no nonsense, matter-of-fact approach to therapy that didn’t make Ron’s skin crawl. And though Ron did not like the thought of therapy, thought that George should just leave him because all he could do was hurt the other man, he kept going. And soon, in spite of Ron’s negative attitude toward everything, that vise that had been pinching his heart seemed to ease a little. He started to get better.

* * *

 

“What is that?” is the first thing that comes out of George’s mouth when he returns home, and though it’s anticipated, it still makes Ron flinch. He can’t help it. It’s all he seems to be able to do anymore and he hates it.

Ron takes a deep breath, hand resting on the back of the ‘item’ in question. “This is Hugo, he’s a collie,” Ron says, petting the collie’s soft fur. Immediately, he feels tension leave his body. 

“He’s a therapy dog,” Ron adds when George gives him a puzzled look.

“Okay,” George says, eyebrows raised. He shucks off his shoes and coat and enters their cozy apartment, brushing Ron’s cheek with a kiss in passing. He gives Ron’s shoulder a squeeze and pats Hugo on the head.

“Doctor Granger thought he could help,” Ron says. “You know, with...with...” Ron can’t quite bring himself to say it out loud. He hates this. Hates that the car accident has cost him, not just the use of his legs, but also his peace of mind. 

“Hey, you don’t have to go there,” George says, dropping to his knees before Ron’s wheelchair and cupping Ron’s cheek in a calloused palm. 

Ron bites his lip and Hugo bumps his head against Ron’s knee, pulling him out of what would have become a panic attack before it can even start. Even though it’s his first day with the therapy dog, the collie has already drawn Ron out of at least three panic attacks. He gives the dog a grateful, if slightly wobbly, smile and pets the dog behind his ears. Hugo gives a whole body sigh and rests his head on Ron’s knee.

“Huh,” George says. “Seems to be working already.” He traces the scar that runs the length of Ron’s cheek with an index finger and presses a kiss to the edge that disappears at Ron’s hairline. 

“You don’t mind, then?” Ron asks.

“Of course not,” George says, giving him an exasperated, yet loving, look. “Anything to help you get better. You know that. I love you, Ron, and nothing’s going to change that.”

Ron takes a shuddering breath and leans against George who’s been his rock through the past year and a half. The man who has taken care of him through this nightmare. It was George who first suggested therapy, who’d provided Ron with dozens of pamphlets about the different types of therapy from art to reversion, and helped him choose Dr. Granger. It was George who kept him going to the sessions when Ron wanted to give up.

There was a time when Ron had worried that George would leave him after the accident that had taken his twin brother, Fred’s, life, and spared Ron’s. He’d thought George would leave him after the hell that Ron had put him through with his ongoing trauma (Dr. Granger calls it PTSD, coupled with survivor’s guilt) and the subsequent craziness that has gone along with his long recovery, but George has stuck right by him, even though he was still grieving the loss of his twin brother. 

George is still with him, sometimes even accompanies Ron to his therapy sessions, helps Ron get out of bed on the mornings when it doesn’t seem possible. “I love you,” Ron says, clutching at George’s shirt, drawing him in for a kiss. 

Hugo, not wanting to be left out, wriggles until he’s between both men and butts his head up under George and Ron’s chin, eliciting a laugh from both men. Something settles in Ron’s chest in that moment, and though he knows that he’s still got a long way to go before he’s fully recovered, he no longer feels like there’s only darkness ahead for him. 

  
  



End file.
